Spiked (Blocked Book 3)

by Jennifer Lane

  We hadn’t even kissed, and the reporters were already marrying us. I looked at my palm and smoothed my fingertips over my skin, remembering the warmth of his hand in mine as we’d hustled past the cameras and microphones.

  Maybe we should give them something to talk about.

  Chapter 16

  Girl needs protected

  Her memories affected

  But I get rejected

  So stupidly, I leave

  Unfeeling ass, I leave

  Pedal to gas, I leave

  She’s biting her wound

  Ascending, the moon

  I don’t like this tune

  So stupidly, I leave

  Futile fool, I leave

  Heartless tool, I leave

  And now what can I do

  To help her get through

  There’s nothing; it’s true

  The time to act’s overdue

  Because I left

  I left.

  MY EYES CLOSED AS I FINISHED SINGING. If only I hadn’t let that Blake guy intimidate me, I wouldn’t have left Jessica in his arms. His creepy arms. I wanted to rip them out of the sockets.

  There was a knock on my bedroom door, and I flipped over the page of lyrics. “Come in.”

  Lucia stuck her head in the room. “Hey.”

  “Thought you were at practice.” She usually practiced the morning of her Saturday-night match.

  “Coach didn’t make us stay to watch video, thank God.”

  When she came in and closed the door, I tensed. Bad news?

  “You got a minute?”

  “Sí.” I looked at my phone as she sat in my desk chair. “But I have to meet the band at noon.”

  She nodded, then stared at my guitar, saying nothing. I tried to figure out what she wanted to discuss. Her T-shirt featured a horse-drawn carriage with a volleyball pumpkin perched atop wheels with long spokes.

  Cinderella went to the ball

  And then she spiked it over the net

  “Sorry I didn’t come to your match last night,” I said.

  “Oh.” She blinked. “That’s okay. You don’t need to go tonight, either. I’m sure you have better stuff to do.”

  Actually, I was waiting to hear back from Jessica about tonight. She’d said she was going out with her roommate, but I hoped she’d change her mind and hang out with me. The explosion of our photos in the media had made it impossible to keep her out of my mind, especially with everyone asking if we were dating. When I’d denied it, people either thought I was hiding the truth or I was stupid for not being into her. As if I wouldn’t be into such a beautiful studette.

  “That song you just played…it’s about Jessica, right?” Lucia asked.

  I flinched. “You could hear the lyrics? I was trying not to sing too loud. Don’t want the agents to know.”

  “I kind of listened outside your door. Sorry.”

  I supposed I couldn’t be angry with her about that, since I’d done the same thing.

  Lucia fiddled with the hem of her shirt. “How’s she doing?”

  “Um…” I realized Lucia hadn’t seen Jessica since finding out about the rape. “Good, I guess. Unless someone mentions Shithead’s name. Then she shuts down.”

  “Must be awful.” She sighed. “I’ve thought about calling her, or going to her dorm, but Dane said she needs space. I just want to give her a hug, you know?”

  I knew the feeling well. I wanted to spend every second with Jessica, but I didn’t want to suffocate her. I didn’t want to push her too hard. And Dane’s advice had seemed to work well a few nights ago.

  Lucia examined me. “You blame yourself, then?”

  My throat clenched. “I was there. I saw him give Jess the damn drink.”

  “But you couldn’t have known.” She shook her head. “Dr. Valentine told me we shouldn’t blame ourselves. She said we’re feeling helpless, and blaming ourselves is a way to regain control.”

  “Wait.” I squinted. “You blame yourself, too? How’s it your fault?”

  “Don’t you remember that night? Dane wanted to go over there, but I told him not to. ¡Fui una estúpida!”

  Recalling how I’d spent the night laughing with Lucy and Dane after I left the party, I felt the urge to throw up. “It might’ve been too late, anyway.”

  Her mouth trembled.

  “It’s not your fault, Lucy. Not Dane’s fault.” I exhaled. “Not my fault either, I guess.” My jaw clamped. “The only one to blame is Suave Swimmer Shithead—the one person who skates free, with zero consequences.”

  Lucia’s eyes narrowed. “It’s not right. But if I were in Jessica’s shoes, I wouldn’t want to report it, either.”

  I shook my head. So freaking unjust. Dad had said one reason he got into politics was to fight for justice. And here was a travesty playing out before us, with nothing I could do about it. My dad was the most powerful man in America, but I couldn’t involve him—not without Jessica’s permission.

  Lucia stood and cupped my shoulder. “I’m really glad you’re there for her, hermanito.”

  “I’m not sure I’m doing anything.” I frowned.

  “You are. Dane says you mean a lot to her. At least I feel better, knowing she has you.”

  I patted her hand. “Gracias.”

  “I’ll let you get to your band buddies. That going well?”

  I shrugged. “The lead singer’s an ass, but he lives out of town. Itch and Fitch are cool. Itch has a crush on you, by the way.”

  She blushed. “The short one?”

  “No, the taller Japanese-Mohawk guy, Ichiro.”

  She rubbed her hand across the back of her neck as she pursed her lips. “Don’t let Dane know.”

  “Really? Might be fun to watch his reaction when I tell him he’s got competition.”

  She didn’t smile. “He’s got enough on his plate right now, Matty. And he’s eager to hurt someone to avenge his sister. Don’t let your friend be the one to take the fall.”

  Point taken. After watching Jessica disappear inside herself at the mere mention of Shithead, I could relate to Dane’s desire to vent his rage.

  Thirty minutes later, Johnny led the way into Fitch’s uncle’s warehouse. This time the temperature was cooler. With October only two days away, there was a hint of autumn in the air. As I passed by rows of lockers, I noticed the heat wasn’t the only thing missing. The skunk smell of Weston’s weed was also absent. I thought he would be here tonight.

  I turned the corner to find Fitch and Itch setting up their equipment. No sign of the sullen mumbler. “Where’s Weston?”

  They shared a look.

  Fitch said, “He won’t be joining us today.”

  “Or ever,” Itch added with a wide smile.

  Huh?

  “You don’t have to look so happy about it.” Fitch tugged at the bill of his hat and glared at his roommate.

  “C’mon, Ryno. You just feel bad because your moms are friends.”

  Fitch raised his chin. “His mom’s the reason we moved to Cincinnati!”

  “Guys.” I set down my guitar case. “Want to tell me what’s going on?”

  Itch nodded at me. “You’re our new lead singer.”

  I froze.

  “All right!” Johnny said. He slung his arm across Karen’s shoulders. Her grin matched his, which made them look like proud parents.

  “Come again?” I asked.

  “Dude.” Itch approached and thumped me on the back. “You’re it. Weston’s gone.”

  “What happened to him?” I was beginning to thaw out, but this shit still felt unreal.

  Itch pointed to my guitar. “When I read your lyrics…then heard you sing, I wanted to kick West out right away. But Fitch wasn’t on board.”

  Fainting at our first rehearsal like a swooning chick probably hadn’t impressed our drummer.

  “It’s not that I don’t want you to be our lead,” Fitch said, taking off his cap and running his hand through his hair. “It’s just
…My mom’s best friends with West’s mom. When my parents split, my mom wanted to get the hell outta Chicago. His mom took us in. She did a lot for us.”

  I held up my hand. “I get it. You guys don’t have to choose me over him.”

  “But we do.” Itch nodded. “This has been building for a while. West forced it, though—threw down the gauntlet. He said he wasn’t coming up here to rehearse any more because he didn’t want to deal with cops.” He glanced at my agents. “He told us it was either you or him.”

  And they chose me? Dios.

  Fitch came over, looking serious. “We want you, Mateo. Your songs are way better, and you’re cooler to hang with. Will you be our front man?”

  I looked back and forth between them, trying to play it cool, but my massive smile betrayed me. “Hell, yeah.”

  We somehow knew to jump together to execute a sweet three-way chest bump, which made us laugh when we landed. And my pump didn’t dislodge this time.

  “Just don’t start mumbling the lyrics or get addicted to weed,” Itch warned.

  No way that would happen. Dane had told me SSS made Jessica smoke a joint that night, probably to manipulate her into keeping quiet about the rape.

  Itch bounced on his feet. “We don’t have to work around West’s bartending schedule now. We can book a gig!”

  Holy shit.

  Fitch fiddled with an amp while Itch strapped on his guitar. I tried to remember to breathe.

  “This means we need to play more to get ready,” Itch said.

  Fitch jabbed his drumstick in my direction. “No forgetting rehearsal because of some girl.”

  I winced as I knelt to unbuckle my guitar case. They continued to give me crap about that night I hadn’t shown up.

  “You still claiming you’re not with Jessica?”

  I looked up at Itch. “Yep.”

  “Whatever.” Itch took on a dreamy look. “Speaking of lovely, long-legged ladies, how’s your sister?”

  “Out of your league, amigo.” I strummed my guitar and began singing “Let It Go” from Frozen.

  Fitch grinned as he threw his hat back on and added a drumbeat. Itch’s bass guitar joined in next, morphing the song into a thumping rock ballad. I didn’t know all the lyrics, but it didn’t matter. Together we created a new, edgy vibe for a Disney song, of all things.

  Fitch’s dark eyes lit up. “We should totally do a cover of this!”

  Nine hours later, I leaned back against the seat of the SUV. But I wasn’t tired. I was exhilarated. Johnny had gone out for food twice, and we’d done great work composing a tentative playlist. I looked at my phone and frowned when I saw two missed texts from Jessica. The first one was a casual question about what I was doing, but the second, which had come just a few minutes ago, sounded more urgent:

  Where are you?

  I typed:

  Driving home after rehearsal.

  Where are you?

  Her reply came at once.

  At Elyse’s. Come get me?

  Yes.

  My stomach flipped. “We need to pick up Jessica.”

  “Where?” Karen frowned from the driver’s seat.

  I waited for Jessica to text me the address and relayed it to Karen.

  “Negative. That’s a busy section of off-campus housing on a Saturday night.”

  “She needs me.”

  She blew out a breath as we rolled to a stop at a light. “Why?”

  I felt Johnny’s stare from the seat next to me. “She just does. Please? I’ll stay in the vehicle. It’ll be safe.”

  Her fingers drummed the steering wheel as Johnny typed on his phone.

  “You need to turn right at the next light if we’re picking her up,” he said.

  “So you agree with this?” She hit the gas when the light turned green.

  Johnny nodded. “Sure. But it’s your call.”

  I held my breath as we approached the next light, and I exhaled when Karen turned right. My fingers tapped my phone.

  On our way.

  After we snaked through crowded streets to arrive at a duplex, Karen left the car idling between rows of parked cars on either side of the street. She reached for the door but Johnny said, “I’ll get her.”

  “No, you won’t.” Karen opened her car door. “You’re not exactly objective about this. Stay with the car—I’ll be quick.” She left.

  Johnny’s jaw ticked, and I said, “What’d she mean about you not being objective?”

  He swallowed. “Because I used to protect Jessica, I guess.” He kept looking out the window at the duplex.

  “Did you like protecting her more than me?”

  He swiveled to look at me. “Of course not.” He seemed to think about my question. “Being on the presidential detail is different. So many agents—I’m just a cog in the wheel. Protecting Miss Monroe made me feel more useful.”

  “You were useful. You saved her life.”

  “An overstatement. I did my job.”

  A low-riding car barely squeezed between rows of parked cars and our SUV. Its horn blasted over the thumping of rap music. “Get outta the road!” the driver yelled as he drove away.

  Johnny ignored them. “You care about Jessica.”

  After a beat, I admitted, “Can’t get her out of my mind.”

  “Don’t screw it up, Ramirez.”

  I smirked. He cared about her, too. Dane had told me Jessica outgrew her crush on Johnny from a couple of years ago. Apparently he could tell me about competition for my girl, but I wasn’t allowed to return the favor.

  I sat up when Karen exited the house sans Jessica. She opened the car door.

  “Miss Monroe’s in a room upstairs, and she won’t come out.” Karen looked at me. “She said she needed you.”

  “I’ll go with him,” Johnny said.

  Karen climbed back into the driver’s seat. “Fine.”

  Johnny led the way into the house with me on his tail. The interior was rather dark, but I could tell from the loud music and glow of cell phones that quite a few people were here.

  “Mateo.” A girl with long, black hair reached for me, but Johnny shook his head as he stepped between us. “Oh, sorry.” She inched back. “I’m Elyse, the team captain. Thank God you’re here.”

  “Jess is upstairs?” I asked.

  “My room.” Elyse mounted the stairs two at a time, and we followed her. She stopped outside a closed door. “We were having a good night—she was sticking to her two-beer limit—when suddenly she’s got a vodka bottle in her hands.”

  I cocked my head. “Two-beer limit?”

  “She asked me to help her not drink too much. But then she wouldn’t listen. She freaking screamed at me when I snatched the bottle from her.”

  “Sorry ’bout that. Did something happen?”

  “I have no idea. She bitched out Mackenzie, too. We threw her in my room to shut her up.”

  I’d heard all I needed to hear. I knocked but there was no answer.

  “Your jalapeño’s here,” Elyse called.

  I looked at Johnny. Jalapeño?

  The door opened to reveal Jessica’s blotchy face and glassy eyes. “You came.” She stepped into my arms, and I held her tight. Her entire body trembled. I smoothed circles on her back until she seemed to settle.

  “So you’re not yelling at him, too?” Elyse said.

  Jessica let me go and looked down. “Sorry.”

  “What happened, Jess?” I asked.

  She clasped my hand and drew me into the room. After taking a quick scan of the interior, Johnny closed the door and stayed outside.

  The room was decorated in shades of lavender and smelled like a sexy perfume. When she sat on the bed, I eased down next to her. Her hands twisted in her lap.

  “We were supposed to party here all night. But then they wanted to go to the swimmer house, and I…”

  His house. Her emotional explosion made sense now. I cupped her hands in mine and stroked her soft skin.

  “Mac
kenzie and Elyse are mad at me.”

  “They’ll come around.”

  She sniffed. Blond ringlets hid one side of her face, and I wanted to tuck them behind her ear. “At least Elyse got the vodka away from me before I could drink it.”

  So that was why she didn’t seem drunk. “Want to ditch this place?”

  She nodded.

  I waited for her to blow her nose, then opened the door to find Johnny lingering in the hallway.

  “Vámonos,” I said.

  “You stick by my side,” he told me, then turned to Jessica. “And you stay right behind us.”

  Elyse bounded up the stairs and stopped short when she saw Jessica. “Well, you look better.”

  “I’m so sorry!” Jessica engulfed her in a hug. “I’ll stop with the crazy town, I promise.”

  “You’ve definitely used up your crazy quota.” Elyse let her go, then pointed her finger at me. “Take care of her, mister.”

  I smiled at her bossy tone. “Yes, ma’am.”

  Her hand darted to cover her heart, and she stage-whispered to Jessica, “He’s adorable.”

  My face felt a little hot, but when Jessica smirked at me and said, “He is,” the rest of my body caught on fire.

  “Okay, you two.” My agent took my arm, and we hustled down the stairs.

  When we arrived at the car, Johnny pleased me by sitting shotgun, leaving the backseat to my date and me.

  Okay, so we weren’t technically on a date.

  “Can we hang out at your place?” she asked.

  Definitely a date. “Sure.” I nodded at Karen. “To the greenhouse, Jeeves.”

  “That’s Master at Arms Kennedy to you,” Karen said.

  When Jessica looked at me, I explained, “Karen used to be in the Navy.”

  “Oh.” We were quiet the rest of the ten-minute drive.

  When Jessica and I walked into the house, I gestured to the kitchen. “Hungry?”

  She shook her head.

  “Um. Want to watch a movie?” Maybe we could cuddle.

  Another head shake. “I want to hear your voice.”

  My stomach twisted.

  “Will you sing for me?” She motioned to the guitar case in my hand. “C’mon. You’ve held out on me long enough.” Without waiting for me, she marched to my bedroom.